


Dean Winchester definitely isn't in love

by cherry3point14



Series: The 'Alone' Universe [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is lovesick, F/M, I don't know what else to say, Sam is Sam, This is basically a bunch of drabbles that I glued together ha ha ha enjoy, You are also there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-10 01:00:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15280119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherry3point14/pseuds/cherry3point14
Summary: All the times that Dean definitely didn’t have any feelings for you and totally wasn’t pining away like a lovesick puppy, so if everyone could shut up about it that’d be great.[This is a one shot to supplement my multi-chap fic 'Alone'. If you haven't read that I highly recommend that you do first.]





	Dean Winchester definitely isn't in love

**Author's Note:**

> Dean POV drabbles of every time he realized he had a case of the feels.

##  _**The first time he sees you** _

The first time Dean sees you he thinks you're dead. He gets that familiar churn in his chest, guilt at having lost another one. You make three. They'd already found two dead girls downstairs so you, hanging there lifeless, makes three.

If only they'd have got here sooner but they weren't exactly scouring missing person reports while the Wicked Witch of the West was loose in the bunker. He knows sometimes they miss some, but it doesn't make it any easier and like every other time, he's still taking it personally. Three dead girls because of one bloodsucking Djinn and him not getting there fast enough.

Suddenly he wishes he'd twisted that knife into the son of a bitches heart a little deeper.

Course, that is before they actually get to you and your eyes flutter open. You look like you don't have blood left in you but somehow, you're still kicking. And just like that, he thinks he's going to get to save one as he tells Sam to cut you down. That'll do for today, just let him save one of you and maybe he'll be able to sleep tonight.

Then you talk. He's about to tell you not too, you're weak right now and you shouldn't be talking but you ask about the other one. Dean prepares to tell you about monsters being real and these ones in particular. Djinn are lonely cave dwellers. They live alone.

He never gets a chance to give you the talk before you grab the knife from Sam and shove Dean out of the way, with strength you shouldn't have after being drained of your blood for God knows how long. He doesn't even finish blinking and you've killed the Djinn who'd been lurking behind him and saved his ass instead.

And when he asks if you're a hunter you basically call him an idiot.

Somehow, Dean knows you'll be ok.

* * *

##  **_The first time you leave_ **

Dean hadn't liked the idea of leaving you with Kevin at first. Sam had been insistent since you were in pretty bad shape after the Djinn and Dean could admit you did kind of save their lives right after they saved yours. But Kevin was family, he was just being careful.

You making fun of him down the phone hadn't really improved his opinion of you, he'd been really excited to see the squirrel.

It's when they come back to the bunker, and Dean still swears he's got an itch behind his ear, that he changes his mind about you.

Because Kevin, won't take breaks because he wants everything to be over, still mourning his mother, Kevin is running around the bunker playing hide and seek. Dean doesn't think he's ever seen the kid look like he's having so much fun. When Sam clears his throat to get Kevin's attention he looks embarrassed, but he still animatedly talks about the afternoon you've both spent playing cards and board games. He claims he only started because you were annoying him while you were bored but then he's talking about his strategy in Monopoly that should have worked so maybe you'd cheated.

Damn. Dean kind of super fucking appreciates you making this kid take the day off because Kevin suddenly reminds him of the kid they first picked up all that time ago. The innocent kid he was before heaven and hell were after him. 

Although this was his life, Dean should have known that the fun was never going to last.

He's never really heard something as loud as your scream and he's heard angels talk. He knows that might be a slight exaggeration, but it is goddam frightening when you're screaming so loud about finding Crowley.

Somehow, it's even worse when you leave quietly.

He takes you back to your car because he's not a dick. If you want to leave he's not going to try and stop you. Doing the sensitive thing is Sam's gig.

He's just glad when you stop crying on the journey because crying chicks are definitely not his rodeo. Not unless he's saving them anyway.

And despite your freak out, you don't seem like you need saving.

He's horrified when he sees what you consider a car. It's one of those things that's more computer than engine and you try to sell him on the heated seats. Of course, he can't show you that he's actually intrigued by that, not with Baby right  _there_. His hand rests on her hood while he watches you get in your truck and spend a moment appreciating it before you come back. 

He doesn’t understand what there is to appreciate but he doesn’t say anything more about it. 

He makes you leave with his number and a promise to check in, not before you insist he checks in with you.

Maybe he can manage that.

* * *

##  **_The first time you text_ **

He's sitting in the car after having watched Cas go into his date when his phone goes off.

**Breaking News. Bieber has been arrested. How are the pretty boys of America dealing with this crisis?**

Dean can't help but smile at the screen. He hasn't heard from you since he drove away leaving you with your transformer truck and this is the first thing you text him?

**It's no comment from us. And you've gotta keep my membership a secret.**

He throws his phone down on the seat next to him and drives off hearing it buzz while he's on the road. He's smirking at the sound when the Sheriff calls and he changes direction to head to the station instead.

It's not until Cas is sliding out of the passenger seat the next morning, after his adventures in babysitting and Dean's own continuing adventures in angel killing, that he looks at the message you'd sent back the previous night.

**A secret? Oh, you poor pretty dummy. It's true what they say, brains or brawn. Can't have it all.**

Dean doesn't type back and instead opts to drive back to the bunker first. When he gets there Sam is, as ever, reading something that looks like the most boring book they have. And they have a whole library of boring.

He snaps a picture of Sam and sends it back with a caption.

**This is what brains look like in its natural habitat. There's no case, he is choosing to do this for fun.**

He sits down opposite Sam waiting for the reply, which only takes a minute.

**What a nerd. I'll take a pretty face any day of the week.**

He only realizes how much he's grinning when he hears Sam's voice, "what are you so happy about? How did it go with Cas?"

* * *

##  **_The first time he doesn't tell you something_ **

He doesn't like watching Crowley walk up the stairs and out of sight. It makes his shoulders tense and his fingers twitch like they're missing a weapon. Too many times has he fallen into a pattern of working with Crowley and usually the outcome is the same, bad. But really what the hell is he supposed to do? He needs to find Sam and the angel currently taking his brother for a joy ride. He needs to focus on the person he can still save.

His brain is about to dwell on Kevin again when his phones vibrates in his pocket, like an electric shock, and your name flashes on the screen.

When he opens it there's a picture. You're holding your phone up for a selfie that encompasses your face and the table in front of you. Your free hand is lifting a fry from the plate of chilli fries below, but it's still attached by stringy cheese and blobs of meat while your face is frozen in some over the top look of pleasure. Eyes rolling in the back of your head and tongue hanging out of your mouth. Underneath is a caption.

**Better than sex.**

He really tried to resist but the corners of his lips curl upwards for the briefest of seconds. It's a momentary reminder that everything isn't fire and brimstone and dick angels. But it's also a reminder he doesn't deserve. He slips his phone back into his pocket without replying and flushes that small spark of joy from his system.

The one thing he's grateful for is neither of you talks about the deep shit, because he doesn't think he can bear to tell another person about Kevin. Even the idea of telling you, who only knew him for all of a few days, is too much for Dean to consider. He tells himself it's not something you do over text anyway and he can't call you from a CIA outpost either.

Then when Crowley returns with news of Baby he's back behind the wheel of the pimpmobile. He's got a brother to save and a mission to do. 

* * *

##  _**The first time you don't text back** _

Dean is consumed by a lot of things. Guilt is probably the main one but, in fairness, he has a lot to feel guilty about. Anger is another. Before the mark, he could focus his anger, use it to sharpen his senses, make him a better hunter but now? With the mark slowly draining the things that make him Dean it's only the anger that remains. An unrestricted fury that swallows him whole sometimes.

Since he touched the first blade though, since he took a life with it, something else lights him up like the sky on 4th July. Need. Hunger. To hold the blade again and never let go. To kill with it. 

It's getting harder to fight the more he tries to. Every minute that passes he can feel the power surge up his arm like he's still holding it.

So, it's a relief to be distracted. He's mostly been distracting himself with his faithful friend, drink. She's comforting and safe and takes the edge off, if only temporarily.

The last few days there's been another, not necessarily good, distraction that he's been clinging to so tightly he's becoming stalker level obsessive but screw it, he's worried.

Sometimes you've made him wait a day for a reply, he assumes you're on a hunt, but it's been three days now with nothing. He's tried starting one of your casual arguments or sending you a joke about Sam being too tall to tie his own shoes, but nothing. Radio silence.

The concern is enough for him to break down and finally send you a message that straight up tells you he's worried.

**Not heard from you in a few days, check in at some point ok?**

He'd hoped it would be enough to force a reply if you knew he was serious. But he finds himself swirling his scotch in one hand and thumbing through his unanswered message history in the other. Which is looking one-sided and excessive on his part.

Then Crowley shows up. Dean just about resists punching him in the face since the bottom feeder has the blade and that's the only way to kill Abaddon, but it doesn't stop the huff and eye roll combo, "you're like a bad case of the clap, every time I think you're gone you pop up again."

"Always the charmer." Is all the king of hell replies as Dean escapes to the pool table.

What follows is a few hours of annoyance. Trying to ignore the demon who is so intent on not being ignored, until finally Dean is saving Crowley from a low-level demon and burying all thoughts of you in favor of the thing he really needs to do. Kill Abaddon.

He guesses putting aside his worry is just one more thing to feel guilty about.

* * *

##  _**The second time you almost die on him** _

He hadn't realized how bothered he was about not hearing from you, now for four weeks and six days, until he's leaving the penthouse where he's just killed carrot top.

There's a lot of things he's repressed. It's a damn hobby of his. Dean Winchester hasn't had a good day if he hasn't swallowed a complicated emotion and washed it down with a whiskey chaser. Some come back to haunt him, some stay where he keeps them, mostly.

Not often do they come back as quickly as his concern for you.

He swears he tried to sleep when they got back to the bunker, but it was pointless. He had a case to work, the case just happened to be you.

One plus side of the mark of Cain? Better than any caffeine buzz when he needed to be focused. It's just that increasingly the focus becomes violent or murder-y.  

He checks the GPS on your car but it's static at some motel in Columbus. The address gets written down anyway, just in case, but if something happened to you he doubts they took you in your own truck. Then he checks in with a few hunters that he figures might be mutual acquaintances and the ones that are haven't heard from you either. It's when Sam wanders in that he tracks your phone and sees it hasn't had a ping in over a month.

Or about four weeks and six days, give or take.

It's a few miles from to motel your ridiculous red truck is sitting at but it's as good a place as any to start.

He's only half aware he's been having a conversation with Sam the whole time.

Dean can feel the tension in his body as he drives, accompanied by that heavy, sickly feeling of anticipation he gets when he's on a hunt. The one that sits in his gut when he's trying to save someone.

Who knows, maybe you're fine. Maybe you've shacked up with a Townie and you've spent the last four weeks carefree.

But he knows that's not what's happened.

From the outside, the building looks like a piss poor version of every bad guy's lair ever. It's a few miles out of town against a lonely highway and looks about ten minutes away from crumbling under its own weight.

Sam tries to suggest scoping out the place before going in hot, but Dean shakes his head to end that train of thought before it starts. He doesn't care what's in there. With the blade tucked in the back of his jeans, he feels invincible but it's more than that. It's the familiar anger emanating from the mark. The vengeful fury that he can't control when his emotions are already running so high.

After all, he's already wasted four weeks and six days, give or take.

They kick down the main doors together, guns raised, but only his door splinters away from its hinges. His boots pound the concrete and he's ready for a fight, he needs a fight.

Except there are only two other people in the room. There's a woman standing over a table with something sharp in her hand and there's this other person. Chained to said table and as he gets closer, shouting for the stranger to get back, he sees the prisoners face.

Your face.

He's about to shoot the woman standing a few feet in front of him, with utter boredom on her face, but she flashes black eyes. It'd be easy to say that he's doing it for you, that shooting isn't good enough for this bitch who's been keeping you here. But as his fingers wrap around the hilt of the first blade forging a connection between the mark and the blade and his unfettered bloodlust, it's not about anything except the pure joy that he gets as he drives it into her chest.

Her death flashes in his eyes as he stands steadfast, watching the demon become nothing but an empty, dead shell. 

It's the voice he hasn't heard in months that pulls him back from the murderous haze. A quiet and broken whisper and then sobs. He turns his whole body in the direction of those sounds and takes in the sight of you. Mangled and bleeding. Some parts of you so bruised that he can't imagine what was done to cause it. The blade slips from his hand like he's scared the sight of it is going to frighten you.

The same hand that had held it, the same hand that had killed this Demon, curls into the ends of your hair while you cry. He wants to hold you, but he doesn't want to break you any more than you already are so this is all he can think to do. Shushing noises and his fingers tangled in the knots on your head.

This time he's not so sure you're going to be ok.

* * *

##  _**The first time he doesn't text you back** _

He sent the message before he summoned Crowley. It does nothing to ease how shitty he feels about this, doing this to you.

He can feel his phone buzzing continuously in his back pocket, you must be calling, when Crowley arrives with a complaint on his lips. 

All throughout the conversation, while Crowley spouts out his knowledge of the mark, that it's controlling him now and he'll die if he doesn't kill, the image of you bloody and broken is in the back of his head.

"And you're gonna help me."

Crowley actually looks interested, "and why am I going to do that?"

"Because I haven't killed you yet for what you did to her."

Crowley isn't stupid enough to laugh in Deans face like he normally would, but he doesn't hold back the bite in his retort. "Oh squirrel. So sensitive still. Y/N got what was coming to her. Besides, what's to stop you killing me once you've got the blade and a full dose from the mark?"

Dean lets out a sigh. He's fighting the part of him that's still telling him not to do this.

"Because I want to gut Metatron more than I want you dead."

Crowley smiles. After a brief reprieve, Dean’s phone starts buzzing again. He takes it out only to turn it off before he nods and escapes with Crowley in tow. 

* * *

##  **_The first time you don't say goodbye_ **

He hasn't left his room since Cas left. He's been clawing at the inside of his head trying to piece things together but it's all half stories and half actual memories. And somehow karaoke remains.

So, Dean does what he does best. His reflex. He goes to grab a beer.

"Hunting felt like the thing I'd always been missing but my sister was going to have a career and kids and everything she ever wanted. I was going to make sure of it."

Your voice is quiet but not so quiet that it doesn't fill the library, the room acting like a huge echo chamber. He stops dead. Neither Cas or Sam had mentioned you were here but hearing your voice brings back bits and pieces. Enough that he can still remember what your neck felt like in his hand and the look in your eyes as you passed out.

He stands there listening to you pour your heart out to Sam. You sister had been one of Azazel's, you'd burned them all and you couldn't find a way to bring your sister back.

Something flashes in his head. What you'd cried out in that warehouse. He'd never thought to ask you about it before they'd left you at that hospital but now it makes sense. Your sister had been a demon, a demon who tortured you, and he'd killed her.

Dean wants to jump out of the shadow he's hiding in when you blame yourself again, but he's stopped in place when you say his name. He knew? What did he know?  

He's trying to remember when he hears Sam.

"So, you're not even going to say goodbye to him? You're just going to run away?"

A lump forms in Dean's throat. You were leaving because of something he knew that he couldn't remember. Maybe he could stop you.

But he doesn't.

Because the thing he does know is that you deserve a chance to get away and go back to your old life. Hunting monsters without the big bad and without him.

He nearly killed you and he nearly killed his brother. Sam wouldn't give up that easy but you? He could let you go.

* * *

##  **_The_ _first time you come back_ **

The rain is battering the outside of the bunker but it's quiet inside. Sam is gone and Dean is he's buried in a book looking for a thread of hope and finding none.

It's been quiet in the bunker for days. Since Charlie. Since what  _he_  did to Charlie.

But rain isn't loud enough to hide the pounding on the door, or the voice he hears as he's climbing the stairs.

"Strippergram, open up!"

He almost falters, almost trips over his own feet but somehow, he rights himself. His heart beating faster than necessary and his palms a little sweaty for his liking.

You're alive and, more than that, you're here.

As soon as he sees you it's like you haven't spent two months off the map. You're soaked, your clothes cling to every curve of your body in the rain, making you look fucking beautiful. Even if your loose hair is stuck to your forehead and you shiver in the cold.

For a while, it's like none of it happened. Him becoming a demon and running off with Crowley. You leaving without a goodbye. All erased while you stand there being idiots and trading jokes. For a few minutes even, the things he's done because of the mark get cast into the back of his mind.

Then you limp.

He's in the middle of explaining why ' _Pour Some Sugar on Me_ ' is one of the top three stripper songs of all time when his words stop. You're leaning on your right leg, right arm on the banister with an iron grip and you're dragging your left leg the rest of the way, down each step. While you don't seem to be about to immediately drop dead he's still concerned.

Of course, he had no idea what kind of injury you were going to admit to.

He shouldn't laugh. You got shot. But worrying takes a backseat when you tell him where you got shot. He's even grinning to himself as he gets the supplies needed to patch you up.

It's only when he opens the door to find you casually lying on the bed, ass up, that he doesn't find it so funny anymore. In fact, he tells you as much when you decide to slap your good ass cheek and make another joke.

He has to bite back a groan watching that.

He sinks into a comfortable position once he's concentrating on getting the bullet out of you. Then he can focus on the task in front of him and forget about your shapely, bare legs that look endless from this angle. It's not your ass he's touching with careful grazes and patient fingers, it's just a wound that he's fixing. Doesn't matter where it is.

That works fine until he puts a fresh bandage on and you immediately start trying to roll off the bed in your half-naked state.

He doesn't need to be told twice when you tell him to leave. He's just grateful that he manages to do it, honestly, he wouldn’t have been surprised if he'd been unable to move because of the situation in his pants. 

Thankfully you take a while to catch up with him, now in clean and dry clothes. And for some reason, he remembers what you said to Sam, not him, the day you left. About that always being your room and there's a warmth in his chest that you were actually telling the truth. You left clothes there, in your room.

His smile only gets wider when you ask about Sam. You've been here as long as you have and not noticed Sam is missing. He tells himself that it doesn’t mean anything but, what if it did?

He hadn't even thought about going back to his room and trying to read more lore. It hadn't crossed his mind once. Instead, he'd venomously defended his TV choices and made you a grilled cheese so that you could both drink the hard stuff. He wasn't sure when you last ate.

It's when you've both finally agreed to watch an old movie, although he doesn't remember which one, that you start drifting. He watches it out the corner of his eyes.

Your eyelids start getting too heavy for you to keep them open although you desperately try. You curl onto your side to get more comfortable and stretch your legs out before you realize your feet land in his lap and you quickly retract them. Not that he'd mind but he's past the point of using words as he watches you like a nature documentary.

Finally, when your eyes close this big, deep breath falls out of you and it seems to take away the last of your resistance because then your chest starts that gentle up and down of sleep. It only takes a few minutes before he decides to put you in bed since you start fidgeting for not having enough space and it bugs him.

That's definitely the reason he scoops you into his arms as gently as possible and takes his time slowly carrying you to your room.

Although when he gets you there it presents another problem. You keep trying to roll onto your back, which causes you to disturb your bullet wound, which makes you whimper and almost wake up. So he stands there for a few minutes nudging you back onto your front, not because the noise you make when you almost wake up is the most helpless thing he's ever heard, but because you probably need your sleep.

It's how he ends up sitting in the chair and watching you. Not in a creepy sparkly vampire way but to make sure you don't roll over.

When you finally seem settled, by the fact that you're now sprawled out on your stomach making happy mumble sounds into your pillow, his own eyes get too heavy to keep open.

He definitely didn't wait till you were comfortable before he lets himself fall asleep. It’s only now he was tired. 

* * *

##  **_The first time you wake him up_ **

He doesn't know what time it is or how long he was out but he does know that your hand is on his shoulder when he wakes up.

Dean cracks his eyes open and looks up at you, noticing how you smile when you call him 'dummy' and the way your eyes seem to sparkle when you mention pancakes. The happiness is so obvious that it's all he can manage to repeat it back, to make sure he was hearing you properly.

"Pancakes?"

You tell him to lie down and that's when he notices the ache in his back from sleeping propped up in this chair. He doesn't have time to tell you that you were right about it though because you wander off, presumably for the love of pancakes.

He stands up and stretches. It takes care of his back enough that he doesn't feel the need to lie down like he was told to and, with the promise of breakfast, he's done with sleep now. He notices the practically empty whiskey bottle as he slowly trudges his way to the kitchen and groans to himself.

Then he hears Sam in the kitchen. Dean hadn't realized he was back but he sure as shit could hear him talking to you. Sam was telling you about the mark, how it had gotten worse and Dean didn't need to see your face to hear the concern in your voice.

It's too early for him to control the anger in his veins as he asks to speak to Sam.

"Dean, what the hell? I can't get you out of your room, but Y/N shows up and you're watching TV and hanging out?" If Dean didn't know any better he'd think his little brother was jealous.

"What are you doing telling her how bad I've been?"

Sam's eyes appear to bug out of his head momentarily, "what like it's a secret now? She knows you have the mark, what's the problem telling her that you've been struggling? You have!"

Dean runs a hand down his face but it doesn't stop the words tumbling out, "because I don't want her to be afraid of me."

He doesn't know why but Sam stares dumbly like he's trying to work something out and in true annoying little brother fashion he steamrolls ahead with his assumptions once they are made. "If you feel like that about her why don't you… I mean I'd be ok with you asking her to stay, especially if it helps."

Dean feels a warmth on the back of his neck, but he furiously ignores it, "I don't know what you're talking about Sammy."

"What you mean the fact that last night was the first time in forever that you've slept more than an hour or hung out with some lore? Dude why don't you just ask her, as a friend even?"

This time his fist clenches and he struggles to release it. His voice is louder and more frustrated than he intended, "would you shut up I'm not asking."

Sam is doing his dumb puppy dog eyes now in an attempt to be convincing and understanding all at once, "But what if it makes a difference Dean. I mean she clearly-"

Dean pushes his index finger into Sam's chest, cutting him off with a glare, "You keep your mouth shut."

He has to walk away after that and not just because he can feel the pink on his ears. It's probably anger anyway, at Sam for butting in.

And then he trudges into the kitchen and you're flipping pancakes with a little sway in your hips as you do like there's a song in your head that he can't hear.

It's not weird that he wants to know what the song is.

* * *

##  **_The_ _first time he fights with you_ **

You somehow sneak into the room without him noticing. Maybe it's the fact that he's retreated back into his favorite new hobby, looking up mark lore, or maybe you're just sneaky.

When you ask about that text message he wishes he had more time. Even though he's been expecting this question since he sent it. There were so many things he's sorry for. He's sorry for calling Crowley in the first place, for getting himself killed by Metatron and turned into a demon. He's really fucking sorry about what he did as a demon but mostly he's sorry for what happened to you in the first place. He goes with his practiced answer though.

"That was when I started working with Crowley. He had the first blade and it was the only way I could kill Metatron. But after what he did to you, I thought…"

"You thought you owed me an apology for trying to save the world?"

How were you so understanding about this? He saw what had been done to you, or at least the after effects, the rest he can only imagine. And yet you were so quick to forgive him that he wonders if you were even mad about him and his adventures with the king of hell.

Then you have to go and ask about his argument with Sam at breakfast.

You keep asking and asking, a question for every answer that comes out of his mouth. And he jumps away from you because you're too close, but you follow him anyway. 

He doesn't want to talk about it, if he was going to ask you to stay he wants it to be different. He doesn't want it to be because of the mark or his screwed-up life.

Except translating those emotions to the mark is something different entirely. All it knows is that he's getting agitated, which leads to violence, which leads to the resentments he buried down deep about you leaving flying from his mouth before he can stop them.

He knows he's already too far gone but it's so easy to push your buttons, you haven't seen him at his worst, so you don't know what he's capable of, so you fight back. You argue. You challenge him until he says it.

"No worries honey. I didn't cry myself to sleep or anything. With your track record, I think I dodged a bullet."

When you answer him with, "go fuck yourself, Dean," he wants to stop. He wants to pull back and apologize. Just the way you say his name is enough to make his chest constrict.

But that's not what the mark wants. The mark wants him to have the last word, so he follows you as you leave.

He should have just let you go.

Sam shows up at the worst possible time and you tell him that you’re staying. Dean knows it's only to spite him for everything he's said but in some twisted way he's got exactly what he wanted. He can calm down now, right?

"LIKE HELL ARE YOU STAYING, I WANT YOU OUT!"

He roars it against her own battle cry but both of you end the same way. Trying to stare at each other until one of you spontaneously combusts.

Neither of you do.

Dean has no idea how but eventually he tears himself away. He shoots daggers at you one more time before he retreats to his room, and with a slam of the door, he hears you do the same.

So much for that.

* * *

##  **_The second time he goes through puberty_ **

He's sitting on a bus. A goddamn bus.

He had to leave Tina there alone and he is sitting on a bus. In a hoodie. Looking like Bieber.

Dean really didn't want to play into the teenage stereotype, but this seemed totally unfair.

He's about ten minutes into the journey when he closes his eyes. Just for a minute. He hasn't slept in what feels like days and the rumble of the bloated bus engine lulls him to sleep.

It's been a while since Dean had a dream, in fact, he hasn't since well before he got the mark. Maybe not being able to dream another side effect nobody writes in the lore books.

But he's in his teenage body now so with no mark it's Dreamtown USA, population Dean Winchester.

At first, the weirdest thing about the dream is that he's an adult like he had been a few hours ago. It's simple enough. He's in the bunker, cleaning his gun except he's butt naked. Feet crossed on the table while he leans back in his chair but naked. And he thinks it's hilarious, he's laughing and making a plan to get Sam to sit in his chair for dinner. This goes on for a while until the bunker door opens and closes and he looks up to see you there. Dressed like a pizza delivery girl. But in roller-skates that you somehow use to get down the stairs without breaking your neck.

Dream Dean seems to have no issues with the fact that he's naked, or that the pizza delivery girl, you, let yourself in. He's mainly concerned about the pizza.

"Delivery for Mr. Dick Hertz," your voice is a sultry tone as if you're trying to be a porn star. He laughs at the name thinking his joke hilarious, but your mouth falls open in shock when you realize what you just said. "Oh no, is it true? Does your dick… hurt?"

You're moving towards him now like you're floating, although, it's probably the skates, and you toss the pizza box to the table carelessly. As you reach him the baseball cap on your head is thrown away too and your hair falls around your face in bouncy curls. "Because if it does hurt, I'm sure I can help with that."

Dean sits forward now, the front legs of his chair slamming against the floor and he sits up straight. His hands reach out for you and pull you forward so you're straddling him on the chair, while he's still naked. "I'm sure you can sweetheart," he says smiling up at you as his fingers skin the hem of your tee, dragging it up your body. You bend your arms and duck your head letting him throw the offending item over his shoulder, leaving you topless because, of course, you're not wearing a bra.

He grins as he leans himself forward, pressing his lips to the skin of your chest, while you giggle. It's only a moment later that you push him back and lean into his face, your lips so close to his he can almost taste them.

"If I'm going to help you, I'm going to need to finish getting out of these clothes first," you whisper before you close the gap, crashing your mouth into his.

"Hey kid, wake up!"

Dean sits up abruptly. A teenager again, on a bus, in a hoodie. He blinks to adjust his eyes to the light when he sees some old guy shouting at him, "driver said this is your stop kid."

It's only as he stands up that he feels something wet. It's a strange experience because it's a feeling he remembers only ever having twice before in his life. And both times he was, shockingly, a teenager.

"You've got to be freaking kidding me."

* * *

 

##  **_The first time he kisses you_ **

Dean is enjoying the ride home like any other time he's been kept apart from Baby. His full focus is on how she's driving and if that's a smudge on her hood or an actual dent.

He's so engrossed with the sound of her engine that he doesn't really listen to Sam much. Dean will tell him later and Sam will get annoyed, but Dean knows he'll repeat all of it anyway.

Or at least he wasn't listening until Sam said it.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, I spoke to Y/N this morning and told her we're on our way back. She asked about us grabbing some dinner because, and I quote, 'she's not our maid'."

"What?" Dean asked suddenly very interested in every word his brother said.

"Well ok there was more than that, she went on about if we wanted a maid then we'd need to find a not kinky one online, but I don't remember the whole thing word for word."

He can't believe his brother is as smart as he is and thinks the part that Dean wanted repeated was the maid thing. "Wait, so you're saying she's still at the bunker?"

Sam seems to catch on because he twists in his seat to look at Dean better with a smirk on his dumb face, "yes Dean, I'm saying she's still there. Like she said she would be."

Baby was used to sudden increases in speed but even this one made her jolt a little as Dean's foot hits the floor.

"Dean, what the hell? Is this about your, ahem, dream?"

He already regrets telling Sam about that but when he'd had to rush to the bathroom after arriving at the motel Sam had forced the information out of him.

"Shut up Sammy," was Dean's eloquent response when, in fact, it was about the dream.

He'd been so sure that you would have left. After the fight, the way you'd both screamed at each other, more importantly, the things he'd said. You'd left before for a lot less. So, yeah, he'd been sure. He'd been expecting to come home to an empty bunker if he was lucky a note that didn't directly blame him even if it was his fault.

But you were still there. You'd stayed. He had no idea why you'd stayed but you had, and he wanted to be there ten minutes ago already, but Baby can only go so fast.

Denial was getting harder to maintain with the way he needed to be there already, the way his heart thumped in his chest or excitement he hadn’t felt in forever. Dean Winchester was definitely in love. And maybe he wasn't ready to say that to your face yet but fuck, if all he could do was kiss you.

Sam wisely doesn't interrupt his daydreams for the rest of the way, he doesn't even mention that they haven't stopped for food.

When the bunker is in sight you're outside and Dean still doesn't believe it. 

You’re really there. You really stayed. 

You're in this outfit, God help him, it's cut-off jeans and t-shirt that is sticking to your skin on account of you cleaning your truck. He pulls up and throws Baby into park, he'll apologize for being so rough with her later, and as he slams the door you're offering to clean Baby later to make amends for raiding his car supplies.

Surely you couldn't have been this perfect the whole goddamn time.

Well, not perfect, considering your choice of wheels. 

He's by your side before you really finish the question. He's close enough that you have to stand up to full height and he can't help taking a second to look at you. Your hair is pulled onto the top of your head and there's a smudge of something on your cheek, your eyes are wide with oblivious innocence right until the last second before he kisses you.

In his dumb teenage dream kissing you made him jizz in his pants, but this is even better. This is real.

Your lips are full and soft and frozen for a split second until he runs his tongue over them. You taste like syrup and coffee and your mouth is warmer than his somehow. When you kiss him back his thumb rubs encouraging circles over your cheek, not that you need encouraging because you kiss fiercely. You kiss him like you argue, with your entire body.

When you can't breathe anymore, and you pull back, he tells you you're staying. And when you try to start a lecture, which he knows will be about not telling you what to do, he kisses you again.

Only partly to shut you up, mostly because once he's started he doesn't know how to stop.


End file.
